


I'd like to figure them out

by urproblematicfav



Series: Upright, Love [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Character, BUT IM BACK, Bad descriptions of the 1930s, Cannibalism, FUCK, HHYGKFB, Hey look at that i wrote my first plot driven fic lol, Hi im asexual and bad at writing porn, Human AU, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), I actually worked so hard on this cri, I don't I know how to write a Cajun accent, ITS BEEN A YEAR ONCE AGAIN, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Murder Family, Other, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, Songfic, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Vaguely described sex, hi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urproblematicfav/pseuds/urproblematicfav
Summary: In Angel's nearly seventeen years on this planet, he's never felt at home. Not back with his sister and parents in New York, not on the streets with Val and definitely not alone in the dark alleyways with nothing but the bruises, blood behind his nails and whatever scraps of money he got from working the night to his name.But now trapped by seeing something he should've because of the kindness of some nosey old asshole, Angel finds that maybe this rag tag group of freaks and murders might be the closest thing to home he's ever managed to get his hands on.And he’s a fortress that you cannot breach,She’s the pit inside the flesh of your velvety peachAnd they are destinations you and I may never reachOhStill, they are never too tiredAlways awakeSo full of feeling that theyConstantly, constantly, constantly quakeThey’ve got fists made for fightingAnd lips that can healAnd tongues that wag hungryAnd, god, how they feelI’d like to figure them out.ON HIATUS(because I'm a dumbass and accidentally deleted the 2/3 chapters and I'm too sad rewrite it rn)
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), One-sided Alastor/Husk
Series: Upright, Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627480
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	I'd like to figure them out

**Author's Note:**

> So to start I guess, this whole thing is 80% based off of the album Upright, love by Blue Kid. Specifically the songs Crush and Upright, Love and the other parts in this possible series will be based off the other songs.
> 
> I'm adding the song lyrics because I think it helps inform the fic?? Or something???? Idk. The album is in Spotify if you wanna listen to it or its probably on YouTube.
> 
> So anyway, "important" background information about this fic. This is mostly just my own headcanons and some stuff I've seen other people talk about + some of the information I've managed to gather while listening to the hunicast streams while I play Stardew Valley. I really like the whole Alastor having a accent and oh boy oh golly is it gonna be fun figuring out how the absolute fuck I'm gonna write that one out.(EDIT: I'm not lol) Also Husk and Nifty are gonna be here because fucm yu Husk being a baby who just wants to be normal but his roommate is a serial killer is some good fuccin shite boi. And Nifty is best girl proven by my tweet that got like 400 likes and 80 retweets.
> 
> Also Angel is underage because,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I want him to be??????? I think its more interesting that way, and it also makes Val seem way more fucked for pimping a 15 year old and then there's my very weird obsession with children in traumatic situations(read: my undying love for Made in Abyss and Nii-chan by Harada)
> 
> Ages for everyone if anybody cares??
> 
> Angel: 16/17
> 
> Alastor: 29
> 
> Husk: 41
> 
> Nifty: 19
> 
> AND I haven't decided exactly when this takes place but its somewhere between 1930 to 1940 idk I'll figured out later. Also, I noticed that I never properly describe what Angels got going on bit wise. I was thinking of making him trans so he can have titti or I could just unnecessarily refer to his chest as breasts despite there being no boob. Again, idfk. It'll be decided later.

_He’s got hair in his eyes_

_Smoke in his lungs_

_The weight of age_

_But he walks like he’s young_

Angel had always bruised easily. Growing up with two siblings, a lotta free time and parents who only ever noticed if they made it to the dinner table each night, had resulted in plenty of accidents. His knees turning ugly yellows and purples when he'd trip and fall as a child. So it never meant much to him when he'd end up looking that a cocaine-induced four year olds painting after a client got a little too excited. It didn't help that he didn't have a proper place to work at anymore, instead stuck doing everything either in the anxiety-inducing backseat of a car or the uncomfortable brick walls of whatever alley he had the privilege to be near. He could deal with the unpleasant moments of his job as long as the money was worth it. Enough to get him some food and maybe whatever cheap bandages he needed for the scrapped knees and scratches across his back.

This time had been shit though.

He was old and gave off enough of those creep vibes that Angel knew he could tell he was underage and was _definitely into that._ And as gross as that was, it was a market. Angel knew what he was doing was already illegal whether he was eighteen or not, and pedophiles tended to pay up a little more than the average lonely freak.

He was pushy too, quick to shove Angel up against the brick walls of whatever building that happened to be there. Forcing Angel to wrap his legs around the guy's waist to avoid slipping and falling on his ass. He cringed as his back hit the cold bricks. His button-up shirt was thin bordering on sheer, and definitely wasn't something that could hold up against the elements, let alone some freak slamming him against a fuckin' wall.

The old creep made quick work of Angel's top, Multiple buttons came flying off as he nearly ripped it to get it open and leave Angel's poor chest exposed to the cold night air. He continued on, pulling the pair of black shorts off the prostitute, pushing them down to around Angel's knees and started unzipping his own pants. Angel cringed as he came to the realization that this particular client wasn't going to be kind enough to get him properly ready for any of the activities that were about to go down. The creep pulled out his dick and forced it into Angel with noticeable resistance.

"Aaa-h, you're so tight,"

Angel choked down a cry of pain, attempting to turn it into a sultry moan instead, and failing. But luckily for him, it didn't seem like the guy cared either way. He buried his face into the creep's suit collar and dug his heels into his back, trying to ground himself from the pain and stop himself from falling as the creep's grip was loosening. The guy started moving in awkward quick thrusts, his dick slipping out multiple times causing him to stop and grab himself to force it back into Angel. After an eternity of bad sex and enough pain that Angel knew he'd feel it for at least a few days after–and not in a good way–it was finally over. 

The creep dropped Angel as soon as he was done, causing the prostitute to yelp as he hit the ground. He gave a light kick and snorted obnoxiously, then buttoning himself up and immediately turned to leave, _without paying._

Angel winced as fluid and a small amount of blood seeped out of him as he attempted to get up and go after the fucker. His knees buckling from exhaustion and pain, causing him to fall face-first into the brick wall next to him.

"Get back here, you thieving piece of shit!"

Angel screamed at the slowly disappearing figure. He quickly grabbed one of his discarded heels and chucked it as hard as he could. Which was only like, four feet. 

Frustrated tears began to burn at the back of Angel's eyes. This kind of shit happened just a little too often and he _seriously_ needed the money this time. It was going to get cold in Louisiana soon and he needed that shitbag pedo's $20 to at least get him through one more night on the streets before he got the next client and the next shitty cash grab.

"Nice throw, kid."

Angel yelped and jerked, turning around way too fast resulting in him once again falling over, but onto the sweet, soft concrete ground of the street this time.

In front of him was yet another a tall, old looking guy. With a fancy-ass looking button-down, vest and nice jacket, fucker looked like he had come right out of one of those fuckin' fancy ass bars where rich bastards played away their salaries in games of poker, just for the aesthetic of it. His hair was black but viably graying at the sides, and he had dark, _dark_ eyes, not even brown, they looked like a dark black abyss and he was starring right down at him.

Angel uselessly tried to cover up his chest and maneuver his legs in a way that this guy couldn't see the obvious bruises and fluids covering his thighs. There wasn't much point, though. His old button-up was too short to cover his now pantless, bare ass and all the buttons had been ripped off by that cheap fuck from before, leaving his breasts just out and about for the whole fuckin' world to see.

"Yea, and what the fuck do you want? Wanna give me fuckin' baseball lessons, huh?!"

The guy didn't respond to the unnecessarily aggressive comment and walked closer to Angel. To which Angel responded by quickly pushed himself away, panic hitting him that a fucking truck. _Shit, shit, shit,_ here he was, ninety percent naked by the street side, in the middle of the night with no one else around, right after some guy _obviously_ just did some illegal activities with him. This was very bad, _very, very, very bad—_

"How bad are you hurt?"

The stranger leaned down and gently pulled the top of Angel's shirt to the side to look at his exposed shoulder, revealing an ugly bruise underneath scraped off skin that was still bleeding lightly. Angel flinched, both from the unwanted touch and the open-air hitting the open wound causing even more unneeded pain after this shitshow of a night. "I'm fuckin' fine! Don't touch me ya creep!" Angel yelled and attempted to pull away again but this old fucker was a lot quicker then he looked and managed to get a good enough grip on his waist to pull him up from the ground and hoist Angel up onto his shoulders. "You're obviously not, kid. I'm taking you back to my place and I'm gonna fix you up—" Angel immediately began screaming and weakly kicking at the guy but the burning current of pain running through his legs and back caused him to stop flailing as intensely as he might've wanted to. "Put me down! You fuckin' kidnapping, psychopath! Someone'll see this and you'll get in big trouble!" The guy sighed, obviously irritated. "It's–" he glanced down at the watch on the other hand that wasn't holding Angel. "Nearly three in the morning and we're in the slums where all the prostitutes and criminals stay at." Angel winced. "There's no one here to hear you and even if they did, do you really think they would care?" The guy said nothing else after that and Angel quit struggling. It was a hard truth but something Angel already knew, it just fuckin' sucked when people vocalized it.

After what felt like four hours but was actually probably only twenty minutes, they arrived at what Angel could only assume was the kidnappers' house or, apartment? He put Angel down, pausing to hold his hands for a few seconds to make sure he got his footing so he wouldn't fall. After Angel was standing on his own and not going to face plant into concrete for the third time that night, the guy pulled off his jacket and handed it to Angel. "I figured you don't want a bunch of strangers seeing your bare ass." It almost sounded concerned, like he genuinely cared about Angel's comfort.

"Oh, so now you suddenly care about how _I_ _feel._ How very fuckin' nice of you." Angel mumbled under his breath as he wrapped the jacket around his waist. The guy huffed and turned to open the door to the building. Angel awkwardly lipped behind.

The building was nice. It wasn't anything fancy or nothing but it wasn't some shit hole either. Angel had seen better.

Angel was led up to the elevator, clinging slightly to the sleeves of the jacket around his waist and he quietly stood in the mildly claustrophobic metal box. The guy mostly ignored Angel as he pulled out a cigarette and match out of his pockets and lit it. He took a slow drag of it and stared at the changing numbers until it reached floor 6 and walked out. He began walking down the hall at an unreasonably quick pace given his unfairly long legs. Angel hissed in pain and stumbled behind trying to keep up. Luckily he didn't have to walk far as the two reached apartment door 6 _–which was weird–_ in a few steps. The guy placed his cigarette in his mouth and used his hands to fumble around his pockets before cursing and turning around to Angel. 

"The key is in my jacket, I need you to give it back." He says, already pulling the loose knot off of Angel. "Fuck you! This is the only thing covering me right now." Angel tried to pull it back but lost the tug of war battle pretty quick.  
"We're literally here, calm down; I have blankets inside." He pulled the old key out and opened the door with a rusty creek which sounded much louder with the three am silence. Once inside he gestured for Angel to sit on the couch by the wall covered in what appeared to be handmade quilts and throw pillows.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit, stay here." The guy left down the short hall and went into what was probably the bathroom and left Angel all alone.

Angel limped over to the couch and sat down, he slowly unbuttoned his bloodied shirt and slipped it off before grabbing one of the quilts and wrapping himself up with it. He immediately cried out before biting his tongue to silence himself as pain radiated across his back as the fabric scrapped against the open wounds. He hissed and adjusted it so the quilt stopped at his lower back and went around to cover his chest and thighs. Once settled, Angel took the moment while alone to look around the room. The apartment the guy had seemed to be pretty big. The sort of living space and kitchen area was small but the hallway lend to four different doors so obviously this guy didn't live alone. Angel glanced at the wall where a few small landscape paintings were hung up. He had never overly been one for art but the paintings had a charming, amateur feel about them. 

Angel jumped at the sound of a door closing as the guy came out holding a small box. "Sorry, it was hidden under all the fuckin' clutter in there." He walked over and sat behind Angel and opened the box, pulling out some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls before putting out his cigarette on the overfull ashtray that was on the coffee table next to them. "Aw, come on, do we really gotta do that? I'd rather just sit here and die." Angel whined dramatically, eyeing the other as he poured the alcohol onto the cotton balls. "No, I don't need to have some prostitute dying of infection in my house." He grumbles with an irritated tone but Angel could see the faint uptick of a smile on the corners of his mouth.

He softly patted at the cuts and scraped skin on Angel's back with the cotton balls, slowly cleaning the wounds. Angel stabbed into his bottom lip with his teeth and tried to stifle a cry. "Fuck-I can't believe I have to deal with two strangers who don't have the fuckin' courtesy to even tell me their name before touching me with their balls, hah!" Angel says, laughing through the pain. The guy stopped suddenly and stuttered. "O-oh, well shit. I didn't tell you my name did I, huh." Angel looked over his shoulder to the guy, who was visibly flustered by this. "Uh, my name's Husk." Husk mumbled before going back to cleaning the wounds on Angel's back. "Well thank fuck, and here I was going around thinkin' I'd have to call you Mr. Kidnapper from now on." Husk tossed the now bloodied cotton ball onto the table and grabbed a new one before continuing. "I didn't kidnap you, I _helped_ you." Angel laughed and jerked to turn around and look at Husk accusingly. "HA! _you helped me?_ You fuckin' hauled me up into your shoulder and brought me to your house against my will! How is that helping?!" Husk glared and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were bleeding in a fuckin' alleyway! It doesn't matter if you didn't _want_ my help; I wasn't just going to leave you there!" By this point Angel had fully turned around, clinging to the quilt with bunched up fists. "Well, here's a fuckin' thought for ya! Maybe I ain't no damsel, maybe I can take care of myself and don't need some eighty-year-old creep–" **_"EIGHTY?!"_** "Comin' in and fuckin' whisking me away like I'm some damsel who can't!—"

Angel's angry rambling was quickly cut off by the sound of something smashing into a wall. Followed by the sound of yelling and a struggle, more things being knocked over and breaking glass. The two looked over to the first door by the hallway where the sound was coming from. "Shit-" Husk cursed with visible panic and quickly got up and ran to the door. Said door then slammed open and a small woman fell out, landing face-first onto the white linoleum flooring of the kitchen. The blood that covered her hands and the white parts of her dress was now splattered across the floor as she rolled onto her back trying to get up. "What the fuck did you two do!?" Husk yelled and moved to help the girl up but before he could actually reach down to do so a man with came out of the doorway screaming bloody fucking murder. 

Angel jumped, severely spooked by these sudden turn of events.

The man had an arm cut off at the elbow and was soaked in blood. The exposed bone and meat was ragged and uneven. It looked like someone had tried to cut it off with inadequate equipment before he managed to escape. He then tried to turn and run towards the front door but moved too quickly and slipped on all the excessive blood that was spilled across the floor and slammed headfirst into the breakfast bar. There was a horrid cracking sound and he hit the floor, unmoving.

"A-ah, wait stop–" 

A soft, thick Louisianan accent came out of the room the other two people had come out of. As a tall, tanned man came out of the room and of course, was also covered blood.

The man on the floor looked up, holding his head with his nonsevered arm. As he saw the man, he immediately opened his mouth to scream but before any sound could come out an ear-shattering gunshot echoed throughout the building.

Holding the gun was the guy who had come out of the room last. He wore a white button-down shirt with a deep red vest, both of which had splatters of blood all across it. His dark brown hair was disheveled and uneven like it had been pulled at a lot recently. His glasses had blood smeared across it along with his face, particularly around his mouth which was held in a disturbing smile.

Everyone stood still as the ringing in their ears started to fade slightly. Husk was frozen by the breakfast bar, right in front of the now dead body. The girl was half sitting up by the man holding the gun and Angel was tense and terrified on the couch.

The girl slowly looked at the body and then up at the man with the gun. "The neighbors definitely heard that, _right?"_ Her voice was quiet and shaky but not as if this situation was that unusual. "I'm afraid so, my dear!" The man with the gun said with an unsettling grin as he put away the weapon and moved to the body. "I'll grab the arms!" The girl nodded and quickly went to work grabbing the dead man's legs and helped drag him back into the room they all originally came out of.

Angel stared at the scene before him agape. Husk looked incredibly irritated by this whole shenanigan, covering his face and exhaling harshly. Just as Angel opened his mouth to ask what the fuck just happened that man popped his head out the doorframe and looked at Angel, making direct eye contact.

"Huskers, my good fellow! Are you bringing whores into my house again?"

Husk flailed in arms, gesturing to all the blood and brain matter that was currently covering the breakfast counter and floor.

"Al, you literally just fuckin' murdered a guy and _you're_ complaining about me bringing home whores?!"

The guy–Al?–merely blinked his weirdly big brown eyes and tilted his head, all while still starring directly at Angel.

"Hmn, fair point."

The girl from before yelled something about bone saws? And Al went back into the room yelling at Husk as he went.

"Though, you do realize you'll have to _take care_ of this now, right Husky!"

It was more of a statement than an actual question, the cheery tone masking the blatantly obvious threat behind the words. Husk cursed and slammed his hand against the counter of the breakfast bar and turned to look at Angel. Some of the blood from the guy who was shot had splattered against Husk's fancy looking shoes and pants.

Nausea and fear started to curl at the back of Angel's throat as _actual_ panic really hit. He had been in the business long enough to know what that Al guy was insinuating and definitely knew given the context that _taking care_ of things like this was obviously something these people knew how to deal with.

"Shit!-okay. hey, listen!"

Angel brought his hands up defensively, the quilt falling out of his grip.

"Listen, it's like that guy said: I'm just some whore. And fuc-" 

Husk rubbed his eyes in frustration and walked back over to the couch Angel was still on. Angel quickly brought his legs up and curled in on himself in a useless attempt to protect himself.

"No one's gonna listen to me! And I ain't no fuckin' narc, okay? I'm–"

His voice cracked, and he flinched as Husk sat back down behind him. Husk picked up a new cotton ball and continued to pat it gently at the nearly clean wounds on Angel's back.

"I'm not going to kill ya, kid."

Husk mumbled, trying to be comforting but was promptly cut off by Al yelling from the other room.

_"I most certainly will, though!"_

Angel jumped and pulled away again, what little color that was left in his face draining and that sick feeling of fear building up again.

"Look," Husk put down the cotton ball and grabbed a bandage. "We'll deal all this shit tomorrow. For now, let's get this fixed up and you some actual fuckin' clothes." After applying all the necessary bandages, Husk got up and offered a hand to Angel to which it was reluctantly accepted. Angel eyed the closed door wearily, making sure to step around the pool of blood that was covering the limonium and leaking out of the edge of the door as Husk guided him to the back of the short hallway. Leading into what Angel could only assume was his room. Husk opened the door, letting Angel in and then going over to the dresser to pull out some clothes. 

The room was fairly boring. Simple alabaster white walls and a bed with navy blue blankets. There was a small desk and chair by the wall near the window with an old, worn-out looking typewriter on it. 

"Here," Husk handed Angel a pair of underwear and a long sleeve shirt. "You can stay in here for tonight, I'll be on the couch if you need me." And he turned and walked briskly out of the room, leaving Angel all alone once again.

Angel swallowed thickly and sat down onto the bed. He gripped the clothes in his hands as his throat got tight and the familiar burn of tears behind to build up behind his eyes. Angel sobbed quietly, immediately bringing a fist up to uselessly rub away at his eyes. This whole night fuckin' sucked. First not getting paid then getting kidnapped and now after seeing some guy get his brains blown out, he's definitely not gonna be leaving in the morning. Angel bit his lip and took a shaky breath, forcing the tears to stop as he got dressed. Unwrapping himself from the quilt he had been clinging too during this whole shenanigan. He quickly pulled the pair of underwear up his legs and reached for the shirt–

_"Al, what the fuck! I thought I told you to not pull this kinda shit after last time?!"_  
  
Angel jumped and his heart raced horribly, dropping the shirt onto the ground as he reflexively brought his arms up to his chest as Husk started screaming from the other room, followed by that soft Cajun accent from before.

_"Husk, my good friend. You and I both know I can handle this."_

_  
"Oh really? cause' if I remember correctly, last time you brought home an alive person to the house, it resulted in me having to cover for your ass by lying to the fucking police!"_

_  
"That was one time, and it worked out didn't it?"_

Angel swallowed thickly and picked up the discarded shirt from the floor. Doing his best to ignore the scream fest happening in the room over, Angel finished getting dressed and flopped onto his stomach onto the bed.

_"You shot a guy, Al! We've already had the problem of witnesses seeing you bring a murder victim here and now if the police find out you fired off a gun in the middle of the night, it's gonna look even more suspect!"_

_  
"The police can't do anything to us if there's no evidence."_

_  
"Oh yeah, because you're obviously doing so good on dealing with the bodies–"_

The sound of someone being slammed up against a wall startled Angel as he was trying to get at least somewhat comfortable in the bed. Angel cursed his panic-induced better hearing as the fighting continued.

_"I've been doing this longer then you've known me, Husk. We are not friends and I do not care if you disagree with me or my methods. I expect you to not interfere with how I do what I do or I'll show you how "good" I can be dealing with bodies."_

That soft, almost eerily kind sounding Cajun accent turned dark and terrifying in a split second.

_"Don't you dare try to criticize my work."_

Angel flinched and buried his face into the pillows. After a few tense minutes, there was the sound of a door opening and slamming shut and Angel assumed the argument was over and done with. Whoever this Al guy was, he was experienced. He wasn't just some guy who fucked up and killed a man coincidentally on the same night Angel had been here. This was obviously something he chose to do and had done before.

The sick feeling of fear came back full force as Angel squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to start crying again. His sweet, perfect, baby sister flashed behind his eyes for a moment as he thought of his impending doom.

He definitely wasn't getting out of this, not after what he saw.

**Author's Note:**

> and it would seem you've reached the end of this garbage fire concealed as "art". I got a twitter where I talk about wanting to write fics and then not doing it and retweet a lot of Zadr art and pro-ship/anti censorship propaganda because fuc u I wanna write about teens doing sex and having drugs.
> 
> Hmu @ProblematicKai on Twitter, also I have a curiouscat thing?? Not that literally anyone cares lol curiouscat.me/ProblematicKai
> 
> I'm very bored and lonley and have no friends pls I'm begging u someone pleastalktom—


End file.
